Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: Egalmoth/Rog, Maeglin/Salgant
Warnings: AU, canon-levels of Everything
Chapter: 11
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate and/or mynameisjessejk, Plot & OC´s © by me
Authors note: Set in the Otter(less) Mayhem Universe of abovementioned mynameisjessejk on AO3. Unofficial sequel to 'The House of the Mole'
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"Will you stop pacing?" Elenwë demanded of her husband.
"It's been days." He did stop pacing, at least. Leaning heavily on the windowsill, he looked in the direction of the river. Not that he could see it, even with elvish sight, as from this angle, it was hidden from view by the forest beyond their agricultural fields. "Days, my love... At this rate..."
"They are not death until we have confirmation of that." She unknowingly echoed her law-sister's sentiment. "They have been searching for only a day, and there are several settlements - loosely termed - between here and the coast. For all we know, they are sitting in some hut, drinking wine and just waiting for someone to pick them up."
"Yeah... I somehow doubt it." Turgon muttered darkly as she rose from her seat to join him.
"Have some faith, my husband." She leaned into him, hands wrapping around his. It filled her with some relief that he still returned the gesture. "Let's visit the others. It might help if you are together."
"I am sure our daughter would inform you that it makes it worse." He did follow obediently, offering his arm to her once they left the royal appartments. They moved through the palace and city slowly and Elenwë noted that the entire city seemed to be in some kind of pre-mourning state. The most obvious were the buildings that fell under Egalmoth and Rog's care, which had replaced the banners of their Houses with dark-grey ones. Silver embroidery showed the outlines of their devices, sparkling lightly in the rising moonlight.
If at some point they found the two Lords only death, she knew they'd be black. There was a certain irony that that was the banner of the almost-officially-adopted son of both unmarried Lords. She hoped dearly, for everyone's sake and perhaps most of all, for the sake of her nephew that it would not be so.
The King and Queen of New Gondolin headed to the House of the Golden Flower, where Tinnuion had almost moved to for the last few days. Upon arrival, they found the other Lords of the city, as well as their spouses... those that had not left to join the search in the river.
The group shifted, making open some spaces on the blankets spread on the grass between Idril and Aredhel.
Salgant was strumming a sad tune, though she felt like he was just repeating the same small rift the entire time. As if he was just trying to fill the silence with something rather than let it hang over all their heads and smother them all with its' obtrusiveness.
Elenwë reached over, joining her law-sister in petting the form of the Lord of the House of the Mole, who was leaning heavily into his mother, eyes blank. He was taking this even worse than Turgon did, blaming himself for what happened, no matter how many times the others told him that it was not.
She started humming wordlessly, a melody to go along with Salgant's deft fingerwork. Slowly it spread around the group, until all of them had taken it up. With some warmth in her heart, she noticed that the youngster under her hand was not so far gone yet that he was excluded from it.
He was in fact the one that changed the humming to a wordless lament, stitching together soft drawn-out wails like he'd do with links for a necklace. Occasionally he pitched one higher or louder, as if trying to channel an entire group into one voice.
There were tears again, his eyes no longer empty and unseeing, but rather pools of grief.
She choked at the sight, ever so briefly, sending a silent prayer to the Powers to let the two Lords be found alive. It would kill her young kinsman if they proved dead. He'd fade, if not slay himself, if they could not return to him again. Her tears joined his, her other hand still holding Turgon's.
The Queen of New Gondolin noticed they were not alone, several of the others weeping as well. It was Glorfindel, golden and bright Glorfindel, that joined the young Lord in wailing, their voices combining into a heartbreaking harmony that worsened her tears.
And this was while their survival was still possible. What would their deaths do!?
